Mind Games
by OtisSpofford
Summary: Kim and Ron deal with issues that were left out of the episode.


The driver did not know them. He knew only that his boss, whose rental agency Kim and Ron had rescued from suspicion of fraud, had ordered him to drive the teens home. Despite her gratitude, Kim sat in the rearmost seat of the 15 passenger van brooding. As if she didn't have enough on her plate already: the cheer regionals, the yearbook committee, tutoring, the swim team, now _this_: Brain switched. How was that even possible? At the moment she didn't much care. Once they got Cleotis (who were his parents, to name him that, Billy Bob and Betty Lou?) to safety they could try to slip back to Drakken's lair and switch themselves back.

Her reverie was interrupted as she slid into the seat next to herself. Intellectually she understood that it was Ron's brain in her body and hers in his but that did little to detract from the visual image. She easily recognized the troubled look on her face; she had seen it in the mirror many times. Or should she have thought 'the look on _his_ face'? How exactly did pronouns work for them now? She was getting a headache trying to figure the whole thing out.

"Kim?"

"Can this wait?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, then looked away. After a moment he looked back.

"Not really," he said. "I mean, maybe for a little bit, but…but not real long."

She sighed loudly and rolled her eyes towards him.

"What is it?"

"I have…I have to go."

Her shoulders slumped in disbelief. "Ron, where on Earth could you possibly have to go that is more important than getting Private Dobbs back to Middleton and then getting back to Drakken's lair?"

His face reddened further and he looked away, mouth opening and closing silently. As he sat there hemming and hawing the flush worked itself to a fire engine red that blazed across his cheeks. Kim didn't know if their minds being switched affected physiological responses any but she knew she would have to be profoundly embarrassed for her cheeks to be as red as Ron's embarrassment was now making them. She didn't think her tone had been that harsh, but maybe her perceptions were off, being in his body.

"No, I…" his voice was just barely above a whisper and he turned his head back towards her but would not meet her eyes. "I mean…I mean I have…to _go_." He raised his eyebrows when he spoke the word 'go' to help emphasize it.

The terrible realization of what he meant with those four words hit her like a ton of bricks, in this sitch the perfect analogy if there ever was one. She felt like someone jumped on her chest (actually, Ron's chest). Drawing a breath was impossible and her body (no, _Ron's_ body) was flooded with panic and adrenaline. A detached part of her mind noticed that the suddenly racing heart felt the same as it did in her own body and tried to analyze whether, scientifically, that made any sense.

Moments ago pronouns and points of view were a jumbled mess but they were suddenly very clear as the intimacy and highly personal nature of what Ron would shortly be forced to do rolled thorough her mind. It was most certainly _Ron's_ hands that would be doing it and _Ron's_ brain that would be processing the visual and tactile sensations that came with. _He_ would be putting his hands on _her_ in an unacceptably personal manner.

As mortifying as that thought was, even worse were the thoughts that came next. Less than ten minutes ago Wade had called to tell her that Drakken had returned to his lair with several large pieces of equipment, and that shortly thereafter several large trucks arrived and activity at the lair tripled. He thought Drakken was probably changing locations. That meant any chance of an immediate solution to their problem was gone and that they would be like this for, at the very least the next day, but much more likely the next several days. And _that_ in turn meant changes of clothes, even… _bathing_. Ron would be seeing and touching her in places she didn't want him to, that he had no right to.

She suddenly felt the same burn of utter mortification that Ron was feeling and it took all of her concentration to focus on the problem. She looked at herself and was surprised to realize that she could look into her own green eyes and see Ron there. That the eyes truly _were_ the window to the soul, even if the wrong soul were behind the eyes.

Her shock and embarrassment softened a bit as Ron's emotions poured out. The eyes were pleading, begging for help, screaming "Oh God, what am I supposed to do?" She suddenly understood that this was something he wanted even less than she did, that from his point of view he was, in essence, going to be forced against _his_ will to do something that was against _her_ will.

He spoke again, the angry red blush having encompassed his entire head, from the point of his chin to the tips of his ears.

"I mean I could…you know…not look. An…an…and then…well, it's just water really, you know…so…a damp spot…wouldn't hurt. Not…not once or twice."

It was so surreal, the whole thing. And as she listened to Ron stumble his way through a description of female urination from a male perspective, without using any embarrassing or descriptive words, and without understanding the bacteriologic implications of what would be more than just a wet spot, the humor that almost always accompanied serious situations reared its head. She felt her bottom lip tremble as she fought to keep a straight face. Ron would be incapable of seeing the humor at the moment; it would only mortify him further.

She also realized from his statement that he hadn't thought past a bathroom break to baths and changing clothes. Of course, he had been talking to Private Dobbs when she had talked to Wade and so wasn't aware that they would be inhabiting each other's bodies for more than the next few hours. Possibly much longer. She felt sorry for him and wondered if she should tell him or wait for him to think of it on his own.

She was on the scariest emotional roller coaster and not enjoying it one bit. Nor did she expect the next plummet as the other side of the coin turned over. Suddenly she knew Ron's humiliation as it dawned on her that eventually she too would be forced into actions that were against both their wills. And even thinking only in terms of the immediate as Ron was, she couldn't simply…'not look'. She had to…aim? And that didn't happen on it's own. It would require…manipulation. Her own cheeks burned brighter as a sudden awareness of her maleness, which until now had been lost in the many other sensations of Ron's body, came to the forefront of her mind.

"Kim?" he asked. No doubt he had noticed the flush in her cheeks (there were those damned pronouns again). She wondered what he attributed the cause to be. Certainly not what it was. She was doing her best to not feel what she felt from below the belt, but it was like trying to not think about the proverbial pink elephant.

"Kim?"

"Just a moment." She closed her eyes and repeated a meditative koan that had always helped her clear her mind in the past. It didn't fail her this time.

"Okay. Just give me a few minutes. Can you hold it until we get back to my house?"

He hesitated. "I…I guess. I mean…is it…is it different? Holding it? For a girl?"

She started to answer but realized she didn't know any more than Ron did. Anatomically it was the same muscle group.

"Most likely. But we'll be there soon, don't worry. Let me think until then. Okay?"

"Okay."

He fled the seat before the word was entirely out of his mouth. Kim considered the situation carefully. Option one: Her mother was a doctor. It would be a simple thing for her to catheterize them. That would work in the short term. At least for her. Ron might not like the idea of Kim's mom performing that particular procedure on him, or at least on his body.

But it wasn't about short term. And to be quite honest, they both were already in need of a shower. A plane ride to Arizona, a hot ride (on a less than aromatic burro) through the Grand Canyon, fighting the bad guys. They weren't exactly looking or smelling their best at the moment.

_Okay, I'm mature. I've been through sex ed. So has Ron. We've both seen it all in pictures._

It came down to the simple fact that they were going to have to do what needed to be done. No way around it. Which meant they could either totally freak out and make a big friendship ending deal over it, or be clinical and detached about the whole thing, relax and just go with it, and not let it get them worked up. But it wasn't as simple as that. The thought occurred to her that it would almost be easier to be in this sitch with a complete stranger. Once they had been switched back they could part ways and never have to face each other again.

With Ron…well that was the problem. They saw each other every day. More than every day, they spent most of their time together. At times they risked their lives for each other. They cared about each other and there was no telling what kind of effect this could have on their friendship. How would they react everyday, knowing they had seen each other undressed, touched each other that way?

She tried to set her mind to get past the physicality of what would be required of them, but couldn't. So they saw each other naked, so what? So there was a little touching that under normal circumstances would not have occurred, so what? She knew the best thing to do would be to just deal with it with dignity and respect, then pretend it never happened. Surely they were mature enough to do that, weren't they? It's not like they were juvenile middle schoolers anymore. They were High Schoolers. _Freshmen_! It would be easy.

Abruptly, the sensation of being male returned to the forefront of her consciousness. And this time she tried to roll with it. She hadn't put herself in this situation, and wouldn't have if she had been given the choice. Morally, her slate was clean so she allowed herself a little curiosity. Really, they both should. How many other men could truly appreciate what it was like to be a woman and vice versa? They had a unique opportunity to get a small glimpse of something so many had no doubt wondered about.

And then a funny thing happened. Intellectually, she knew what was going on, but that didn't prepare her for the sensation of a part of her body transforming in such a manner. The emotions that accompanied the change were both varied and overwhelming: Shock, pleasure, confusion, curiosity, embarrassment, and a few others that defied description. And then came the sensation of a heartbeat that was nowhere near her heart. It was an experience that could best be described as alien. She glanced over at Ron to see if he had noticed any change in her demeanor. Her cheeks felt they had been pressed against a stove burner, so they must have been an unholy shade of red. And she was more than thankful that she was sitting behind the concealing barrier of the seat back in front of her. He wasn't looking at her and his hand was on the handle of the sliding door. She was immediately concerned and abruptly the change reversed itself as all thought of what was transpiring physically left her mind.

"Ron? What are you doing?"

* * *

Ron risked glancing over at Kim. Or at himself depending on how he looked at it. She was staring into space, deep in thought. Hopefully she would think of something. He didn't know what. This was totally whacked. The most unbelievable thing that had ever happened to them.

At first, he hadn't thought anything of it. The adrenaline had been running and all he had felt was the thrill of battle. But that soon faded and he became aware of Kim's body. _Very_ aware. Continuously so. But that wasn't really the problem. He knew he wasn't the best or brightest, the smartest, the strongest. He knew that in many ways he was less mature than his peers, and some ways _much_ less mature than his peers. And that was fine with him, he _liked_ who he was. But he also cared about Kim, as much as he had ever cared for anyone outside his family. Letting her down would be the worst thing he could ever do to himself. So if he was forced, out of necessity, to touch Kim in a way that he wouldn't dare without an extreme change in the nature of their relationship _and_ an invitation, he could do it with detachment. He could handle this situation with maturity, dignity, and respect. For Kim's sake. He had to.

But apparently the choice wasn't to be his. And _that_ was the problem. No matter how much he _wanted_ not to be, no matter how much he _tried_ not to be, the simple fact was that he was…aroused. Despite being in a different body, the way it felt in his mind was no different. And there was the betrayal. He felt like he was abusing Kim without her knowledge. And the only thing that would be worse would be if Kim found out.

She was sitting over there cool as a cucumber. There was no way she was feeling the things that he was. She was too good for that, too mature. And that made it even worse. Kim was very smart and very perceptive. It was Ron's most fervent hope that Kim interpreted his extreme embarrassment to be over the physical complications of their situation. But that wasn't it at all. He could handle that. They'd both been through sex ed. They'd seen all the pictures. They knew the facts of life. Some of the sex ed films could even almost have been categorized as pornographic. And honestly, he had looked at other media that had come his way, but what normally developing boy didn't? It was knowing he was taking any sort of pleasure in this that made him feel as if he were doing something dirty to Kim.

His fear suddenly swelled as the word "dirty" entered his mind. What if they couldn't get back right away? What if they were trapped like this for more than the next few hours? Eventually he'd have to shower and change clothes, wouldn't he? How could he look at her, put his hands on her body for even the mundane task of hygiene, knowing how it would make him feel?

Suddenly, unbidden, an image of Kim in the shower popped up in his mind. He had never imagined such a thing before. Sure he had, from time to time, momentarily entertained thoughts about what she looked like in the buff. After all, Kim was a supremely attractive girl. He would think something wrong with him physically _and_ emotionally if he hadn't. But that was as far as he'd ever gone. To take it any further than that seemed wrong. And then he was imagining himself _as_ Kim in the shower, using his hands to do shower things. And as his imagination ran wild against his will, he felt sensations that no man had ever experienced before, a physical arousal that accompanied the mental arousal he was already feeling.

Only moments ago, he thought his (or Kim's depending on how he looked at it) cheeks could burn no more than they already did, but he was wrong. Certainly he was familiar with the term "die from embarrassment". He had applied it to himself on uncountable occasions. But he literally felt like throwing himself out of the van.

He despaired. Their friendship was over. Never again could he look at her the same way. Always it would be with the terrible knowledge of this betrayal. And that would lead to an inability to look at her at all, an inability to be around her, anywhere near her.

He put his hand on the handle of the sliding door on the right flank of the van. How easy it would be. They were on the interstate, in the left lane. Traffic was not heavy, but also could not be called light. A quick tumble out the door and it would all be over. But rational thought sifted through the emotional haze and made it abundantly clear that such an act would not be suicide, but murder. Or, oddly, both. A doubly damning sin that would no doubt send him to the darkest corner of hell. Tears welled in his eyes as he struggled to move his hand from handle to seat. Then he heard Kim's voice.

"Ron? What are you doing?"

He jerked his hand from the door handle.

"Uh…nuh…nothing."

"Were you trying to open the door?"

"No, I…I…"

Cleotis was suddenly very interested in their conversation.

"Come back here," Kim said.

"Kim…I…"

"_Now_."

Reluctantly, Ron switched to the backseat.

"What's going on?" Kim asked.

Ron's mouth moved but produced no sound. He wouldn't look at her.

"Ron?"

"Kim…please…"

She looked up. Cleotis was watching them intently. The fact that he was in Drakken's body, the image of her archenemy intruding on such a personal moment, did not help her mood.

"What's _your_ problem?" she snapped.

His head snapped around and he stared out the front window. The van was exiting the interstate. They would be at her house in just over five minutes.

"Okay," she said quietly, "Just hang on for a couple more minutes, then we can have some privacy and talk about this."

Ron nodded briefly but furiously. She took a deep breath, let it out through pursed lips. Ron was staring at the deck as though the secret of life were to be found there. The minutes passed with an agonizing lack of brevity, but the van finally stopped in front of her house and they disembarked. She thanked the driver and they went inside. Thankfully, neither her parents nor the Tweebs were home. She ordered Cleotis to stay put in the living room and then dragged Ron upstairs to her room.

She started to unload on him, but his expression and demeanor softened her tone.

"So what was that back there?"

Again, his mouth moved but no words came out.

"Ron, you're my very best friend. You can tell me anything."

She waited for him to find the words. When they finally came, she had to strain to hear them.

"That's the problem. You're my very best friend."

"I don't understand."

"It's this…sitch. I… I want…"

"What? You want what? It's okay, you can tell me."

Finally, for the first time since he had broached the subject of "having to go", he met her eyes. There was anguish there, and bleak despair.

"I want to do the right thing. But…but I can't. My mind…it betrays me."

"I don't understand."

"I…I know we're going to have to do things…intimate things…that we'd never do if not for this."

"I know, Ron. I know how you must feel, knowing that I'm going to have to touch you that way. I feel the same-."

"No. No that's not it at all. I don't mind so much…you having to touch me. It's something that has to be done. I'll have to do the same things. It's just a matter of accepting it and getting through it. I've done that."

Kim was taken aback. She had been sure Ron felt the same way as she did. Why else would he be acting with such embarrassment?

"Then what?"

"I…I…"

"It's okay. You can tell me."

She again had to strain to hear his response. "I like it."

* * *

Just like that, everything was different. She realized that Ron's concerns were completely different from hers. She was worried about the physicality of the situation. Of being touched by Ron and the knowledge and intimacy that engendered. She hadn't thought about it the way Ron had. She was aware that she had certain physiological impulses and emotional responses that would be impossible to contain or ignore, and that it would be foolish to try to do so. It would be like slamming her hand in a car door and then trying to pretend that pain was an unnatural response.

Despite the fact that neither of them cared to be in this situation, it was by its very nature a sexual experience. To attempt to deny that was an attempt to deny that they were human. But this was exactly what Ron was trying to do, out of some misguided attempt at chivalry.

"I…I've betrayed you," he said. "Not intentionally, but I have. I know you don't want to see me anymore. As soon as we're back to normal, I'll…I'll stay away. And I'm sorry. I would have just thrown myself out that door, but…"

She tried to say something reassuring. But words escaped her as she realized what he was saying. He was mortified, not at the thought of having to touch her, but at the thought that he would derive pleasure from it. Even moreso from the thought that she would think it a deliberate act on his part, not a natural physiological response. And he was so horrified by his imagined perception of intentional betrayal that he had been ready to throw himself from a moving vehicle and into certain death as penance. Only his habitation of her body had kept him from doing so. If ever there was proof of how true a friend could be, this was it.

Now _she_ was the one who was mortified. Here she had been worried about the simple act of Ron touching her. _OMG! He'll see me naked! He'll touch my booby!_ So what? She had unthinkingly denied him the consideration that he would be able to conduct himself like an adult, and it was suddenly clear that _she_ was the one without a clear handle on things. She touched his face.

"Oh, Ron. I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? Why are _you_ sorry?"

She drew a long breath.

"Ron, I was worried about the _physical_ things we're going to have to do. I didn't think about it the way you are."

"What…what do you mean?"

"It's _okay_ that you like it." She swallowed hard in an attempt to dislodge the hard lump that suddenly formed in her throat. "I don't expect you to be able to rein in millions of years of ingrained emotional response. _I_ haven't."

"You…you mean…"

She was profoundly embarrassed to say what she was now forced to admit.

"There in the van…thinking about being a guy and what that felt like…I…I got…"

Ron said something that was defiantly _not_ a term that had been used in sex ed, and that in other circumstances could have referred to skeletal anatomy. Kim felt her face burn.

"That's one way of putting it, yes."

"You mean you…"

"Yes. And that's perfectly natural. I'm not ashamed of it. Embarrassed, yes. But not ashamed. And neither should you be. You're confusing the physical sensations of pleasure with the emotional response of deriving satisfaction. I'm okay with the first." She squeezed his hand. "And I know you'd _never_do the second. You haven't betrayed me, Ron. On the contrary you've been very noble. Moreso than I, even."

His relief was palpable. "So...so then…what do we do?"

Kim considered. It was essential that they get over both their physical and emotional discomfiture or there would be serious repercussions for their relationship with each other, with friends, and with family, both in the short and long term. The best solution was obvious, but would be emotionally taxing. She suggested it, nonetheless.

"Have you ever heard of immersion therapy?"

"No. What's that?"

"It's a psychological technique where a patient is forced to confront their phobia by exposure to it."

"Like, if you were scared of heights, they'd put you on the top floor of a skyscraper."

"Something like that, yes."

"So what are you suggesting?"

"We're both sweaty, dirty-"

"No, Kim. Absolutely not. No way." He put his hands over his ears and started chanting.

"La la la la, not thinking, not thinking about it."

Kim pulled his hands from his ears, held them with one hand and put a finger of the other hand over his (her) lips.

"It's the only way. We have to become comfortable with the idea of being in each other's body, and fast. We've always been close, Ron, all this will do is make us closer. Who knows, some years down the line, we may thank Drakken for this."

"Kim, I don't want-"

"I know what you don't want. And knowing that you don't want it, faith that you know _I_ don't want it, but doing it anyway because it' necessary, can only make us better friends. Better than any two people could ever be. And once this is all over, we can put it behind us. Acknowledge that it happened, accept it, move on, and never speak of it again if we decide we don't want to. But we can't let it destroy us." She took his hand. "Are you with me?"

Ron took a deep breath, let it out slowly. He looked at the floor, then back up at Kim. He nodded slowly.

"Good," she said. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what would come next. "So…towels are in the bathroom. Let's get this over with."

"Fine. But let's hurry before your parents get home and I end up on a rocket to Mars."

* * *

_This was easily one of the most difficult pieces of fiction I've ever written. It started out as a "Princess and the Pea" kind of thing, For some reason, it always bothered me that the writers of _Mind Games_ never even hinted at these issues. A constant little tickle in the back of my literary mind. (I think there is a literary term that describes completely ignoring a glaringly obvious issue for the sake of ease of storytelling, but I don't remember what it is) Having tackled them myself, I now know why. They can't _be_ hinted at. They have to be dealt with, which Disney obviously couldn't do._

_Initially, I approached this story with the unintentional mindset of Kim and Ron as they were in the fourth season of the show, as well as with the intention of making this a serious story, but with a light hearted humor woven throughout. A cute, funny little story, like the embarrassing picture everyone's mother has of them in the bathtub at a very young age. But I could never get it to work. And then it dawned on me why: Kim and Ron are little kids here. _Little kids_. Fourteen at best. __Suddenly all the humor was gone. I thought of nieces and nephews I have that are that age and was forced to make a paradigm shift in my thinking. In fact, I almost trashed the whole story just on principle._

_But I felt there was still merit to the idea if it was approached very carefully. And that was what made the story so hard. It was important to me to make sure that the narrative focused less on _what_ was happening and more on how Kim and Ron _felt_ about what was happening. That's why so much of the action is insinuated. _

_I also felt it was important to juxtapose Kim's horror of the physical issues with Ron's horror at the emotional side of things, and to highlight their, particularly Ron's, typically tween emotional over-reactions._

_As for the conclusion, the scene at the dinner table that must have immediately followed these events indicated that Kim and Ron were totally at ease with their situation. They had changed clothes. They were acting normally, both towards each other and towards Kim's parents. Something big had to have happened to make them that way. There were a limited number of "something's" and I chose what I felt was both the most likely, and the least controversial._

_So there you have it. I hope you enjoyed the story. But judge if you want. I think it's a good, powerful friendship story. I think there was nothing wrong with writing it the way I did, and if you don't agree that's your right. I can take the criticism._

_O.S._


End file.
